


Decisions

by ilsafausts (phoenix_cry)



Series: A Spy's Affair [2]
Category: Mission: Impossible, Mission: Impossible (Movies)
Genre: Action & Romance, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Don’t copy to another site, Drama & Romance, Ethan is a Softie, F/M, Forbidden Love, Implied Sexual Content, Light Angst, Movie rewrite, Movie: Mission: Impossible - Rogue Nation, Syndicate!Ilsa, Team Dynamics, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-22
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-10-14 15:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17510912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_cry/pseuds/ilsafausts
Summary: With Ilsa having vanished from his life, Ethan is left reeling. Can he find her again, and get her away from the Syndicate at the same time?(A Rogue Nation rewrite)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> You asked for more Syndicate!Ilsa, so here you have it.
> 
> Hope you enjoy :)

“Okay, what’s wrong?” Benji asked as he dropped down in the chair opposite Ethan’s, setting two open bottles of beer on the table between them with a thud.

Ethan blinked, pulled out of his thoughts. “What do you mean?” He asked and watched with interest as Brandt and Luther joined them at the table with a beer of their own, taking the two remaining chairs.

They had been here before, in this very venue, in San Francisco, overlooking the bay they had once crashed a nuclear device into.

“You’ve been brooding for almost three weeks now, and frankly, I can’t take your mood anymore,” Benji continued.

“It’s annoying the hell outta me, for sure,” Brandt agreed, taking a sip of his drink.

“I miss the Ethan who knew how to smile,” Luther added with a shrug, giving his long-time friend a look.

Ethan just stoically grabbed his beer and stared at it, unseeingly. “I’m fine,” he said.

“Are you trying to convince yourself, or us? Because, dude, that totally didn’t work,” Brandt stated, lifting a skeptical eyebrow at his friend.

Ethan sighed, making Luther throw him another look. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he’s love-sick.”

Ethan’s eyebrows furrowed and he took another sip of his beer, declining to comment.

His non-answer made Luther’s own eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Well, I’ll be damned!” He exclaimed. “He actually  _is_!”

Benji and Brandt scooted closer with interest. “Ooh, do tell us more,” Benji said.

“Or anything at all,” Brandt quipped with a grin and a shrug.

“Stop, guys,” Ethan protested, “It’s nothing.”

“Suuure,” Brandt grinned, having none of it. “Tell us about her. Or him. I don’t wanna assume anything, y’know.”

Ethan sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling an oncoming headache. “Thanks, Brandt.”

“Yeah, no problem.”

Silence fell over the table as everyone waited for Ethan to speak. Eventually, he sighed again and let himself fall back in his chair with a resigned look on his face. “Her name is Ilsa,” he began and told them how he had met her while tracking the Syndicate, how they had clashed and fought, and how she had gotten the upper hand, yet hadn’t killed him. How there had been a look in her eyes that had struck him right down to his soul, and how he hadn’t been able to get her out of his head after. Searching for the Syndicate had from then on become on par with finding Ilsa again. He told them how he had eventually tracked her down again, and how she had seemingly expected him, just greeted him with a smirk and that look in her eyes and invited him for a drink. He told them how he had fallen in love with her and how he had tried to get her to leave the Syndicate ever since.

And he told them that he hadn’t seen or heard from her in weeks.

“I worry that she’s….that they found out. About us,” he admitted, the words feeling like acid in his mouth, burning down his throat and settling in the pit of his stomach.

The guys exchanged a look, unsure what to say. When they had started this conversation, this certainly wasn’t what they had expected to learn.

“Ethan,” Luther began gently, leaning forward again and looking his friend in the eyes, “you know that your….affair could be viewed as treason, right? That if any of our bosses found out about this, they’d say you’ve been sharing intel with the enemy and they’ll lock you up in the deepest, darkest hole they can find.” His eyes left Ethan’s for a moment to share a look with Benji and Brandt. They gave the slightest, barely-there nod at his silent question. “And how they’d throw us right down that hole with you if we were to help you find her.”

Ethan glanced up at his friend, surprised and grateful at the same time. “You really don’t have t-”

“Let me stop you right there,” Luther said. “You’re our friend and you wouldn’t hesitate to do that for us, so of course we’re going to help you.”

Benji nodded. “It’s a no-brainer, really.”

“And I really can’t wait to meet this woman who managed to enchant you so thoroughly,” Brandt teased, then added, “Also, I can’t wait to see Hunley throw a fit over this. You gotta take your entertainment where you can find it, right?”

Ethan chuckled and gave all of them a small smile. “Then let’s find her.”

 

*

 

“He just doesn’t give up, does he?” Solomon Lane mused as he watched a security feed of Ethan Hunt breaking into a secure facility, looking for him. “How very admirable of him.”

“I told you I could take care of him for you. Get rid of that nuisance once and for all,” Vinter said, standing behind Lane’s left shoulder, watching the feed as well, an annoyed frown on his face.

“And I told you, I’ve still got plans for him. I don’t like to repeat myself, Vinter.”

Vinter’s frown deepened. “Yes, sir.”

“Besides,” Lane added, a small, deadly smile on his face, “I think it’s about time we allowed Ilsa some time to play, don’t you?”

Vinter knew it was a rhetorical question, so he settled on throwing a glare in Ilsa’s direction, who was currently minding her own business at the other side or the vast hotel room, sharpening her knife. He didn’t understand why Lane was so fixated on her. Granted, she was a great agent and had a lot of potential, but so were many others in their organization. She really wasn’t that special. Or maybe Lane just had a thing for her. Vinter shrugged inwardly. Who could tell with him, anyway.

“Ilsa, dear,” Lane called out, his voice even now never losing its rasping, whispering quality.

At the other side of the room, Ilsa looked up in question. “Come here, please,” Lane said and both men watched as she rose gracefully, like a cat stretching from a nap and going on the prowl.

“Yes?” She asked as she came to a halt before them.

“I have a job for you,” Lane stated and turned the laptop around so she could see the screen. “Find him, and detain him, please.”

Ilsa’s eyes glanced down to the screen and she took in Ethan Hunt’s form without a single flicker of emotion. “Of course,” she said and faced Lane again, her left eyebrow raising slightly in question. “Anything else?”

“Not for now, no.”

She nodded and returned to her previous place across the room to get her things. A minute later, the door closed softly behind her.

Vinter stared at the door for a moment longer, an uncomfortable feeling settling in the pit of his stomach. Something told him not to trust her with this job. He’d make sure to keep an eye on her.

 

*

 

Ilsa watched from the nightly shadows as Ethan and his team filtered into their safe house, each of them looking over their shoulders, making sure they weren’t being followed. She melted more deeply into the shadows of the small alleyway, feeling her heartbeat accelerate slightly at the sight of him.

She was loath to admit she had missed him, but here she was, hiding in the darkness, butterflies in her stomach, trying to decide on her next move.

Lane’s order had been clear, yet could she really deliver Ethan into his hands?

She remembered the last time they had been together - his urgency, his desperate longing to commit every second to memory. She had known then that she had to let him go, that it was too dangerous for both of them, this little illicit liaison. That they were both in too deep. So she had vanished from his life, ignored his attempts to make contact, thinking it for the best.

Now she wasn’t so sure anymore. She knew he’d been searching for Lane. And for her. Now it had come back to bite her in the arse.

Ilsa sighed softly, watching as the door across the street shut behind him.

She waited a few more minutes, not being able to get rid of the feeling that she was being watched. Probably Vinter, making sure she wouldn’t mess up, she thought. She just had to be careful.

Silently crossing the street, she quickly made short work of the safehouse's security before slipping inside, gun at the ready. She hoped she wouldn’t need to use it.

“We have to be close by now, right?” She heard a male voice with a British accent filter down the dark corridor. “I mean, it’s been months, how hard can it be to find her.”

Her eyebrows furrowed and she suppressed a sigh, now knowing for sure that he had been looking for her.

“She’s one of the best agents I’ve ever come across, Benji. If she doesn’t want to be found, it’ll be damn hard to do so.”

Ilsa bit her lower lip, trying hard not to smile. She really had missed him and his voice.

She silently crept further down the corridor, not making a single sound, and stopped at the corner, pressing her back to the wall. Her heart pounded madly and she closed her eyes for a second, trying to slow it down.

With one last deep breath, she pushed off the wall and rounded the corner, coming face to face with four surprised IMF agents, but her eyes were only on him. In the second it took her to take him in, she noticed how haggard he looked like he had barely slept in the last few weeks, and her heart squeezed painfully.

His mouth opened to say something, but he never got the chance.

Four shots rang out in quick succession and the four men went down, falling where they stood.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to shutupmulder for letting me yell at her about this story and sharing ideas, and most of all, for helping me with the Swedish parts! :-*

Ilsa turned around, gun raised, only to freeze and glare at the man behind her. 

Vinter was leaning against the opposite wall, a cruel smirk on his lips, his tranq gun resting against his thigh. 

“What are you doing here?” Ilsa hissed. “I had it covered.”

Vinter shrugged, nonchalantly. “Thought you might need a hand, is all.”

“Does Lane know you went against his orders? Again?”

Vinter shrugged again and made his way over towards the unconscious men, kneeling down beside Ethan and studying him like a lab rat. “I don’t understand the fuss about him. He’s not that special if we could take him by surprise like that.”

Ilsa glared at his back, itching to put a bullet between his ribs. But that would be too good for him, she decided and concentrated on controlling her breathing instead. “Lane has his reasons,” she said and stepped beside him, looking down at Ethan as well, mask firmly back in place. “Well, you’re here, so you might as well help me carry them to the car.”

“My pleasure,” he said, grinning like it was Christmas morning. 

Ilsa felt another surge of hatred but stamped it down. She needed another plan, and quickly. 

She also knew that Ethan wanted a face-to-face meeting with Lane, so she might as well make the best of this situation.

Either, Ethan would thank her or curse her for it later. 

 

*

 

The first thing Ethan noticed when he came to, was that his shoes were missing and his feet were cold and naked. The next thing that registered was that he was handcuffed to a pole and his shirt was missing as well. Blinking the bleariness from his eyes, he tried to remember what had happened. 

Ilsa. He had seen Ilsa. He was sure of it. But how did he end up here? Wherever ‘here’ was. 

Looking around the room - alas the word  _ dungeon _ would describe it more fittingly - he noticed the old pipes weaving throughout the room, the brick walls, the metal door to his right, the table opposite him. Then he noticed Benji, Brandt, and Luther sitting on metal chairs to his left, neatly lined up, handcuffed and still hunched over, unconscious. 

Whatever they were hit with had really done its job. 

Ethan tugged on his bindings, searching for a way out of this predicament. A few moments later, his team began to stir. He gave them a few seconds to regain their bearings. 

“What the  _ hell _ …” Brandt groaned, apparently being the first to regain his senses. The answering groans from Benji and Luther would have made Ethan chuckle if their situation hadn’t been as dire as it was. 

The door opening to his right prevented him from answering. His breath caught as he laid eyes on Ilsa for the first time in months. 

_ She is alive _ , his mind screamed, and he could have cried with joy. Outwardly, his face remained emotionless, his eyes tracking her slim form walk across the room and towards the table. She hadn’t looked at him yet, and he yearned to see her eyes. He could always tell if she was all right if he could just look into her eyes. 

She was wearing high heels, which she pulled off as soon as she had reached the table, and set them down on it. He had to smirk inwardly because of course, she did. He remembered a conversation they had pretty early on in their...acquaintance, in which she explained her love/hate relationship with those particular shoes. She loved wearing them because they made her legs look fantastic - he had agreed wholeheartedly to that - but hated them at the same time because they were hell to wear. 

Beside her shoes, she set down a small box, from which she pulled several vials and needles, putting them down in a neat little row on the table. Looks like she had plans for him, he thought mirthlessly. 

He really needed to look into her eyes. 

As if hearing his thoughts, she finally turned around, eyes dark, while she took him in. He breathed a sigh of relief and her eyes flickered in answer. She tried to keep herself closed off from him, but he could still read her like an open book. 

She had a plan. They were going to be fine. 

Until the door opened again and a tall, blond man entered the room, followed by several other men. Something nagged at his brain, and he knew he’d seen this guy before. He dared a quick glance at Ilsa and saw her clench her teeth for a split second. 

His hope dimmed slightly. Not part of the plan, then. 

”Vad gör du här?” She asked the newcomer, her voice washing over him like a balm to his soul. For some reason, he wasn’t surprised that she spoke Swedish. “Jag sa, vad gör du här?” She repeated, when the guy didn’t react, just studied Ethan like he didn’t have a care in the world. 

Ethan wanted to punch him for so rudely ignoring her like that. 

”Jag måste ju se vad killen är gjord av,” he finally answered, not taking his eyes off Ethan, as he made his way over towards the table as well, setting a medium sized case down on it. He finally turned his attention from Ethan towards his case, opening it, and Ethan could see an assortment of knives and saws and other lovely torture devices waiting within. 

_ Janik Vinter _ . His brain finally supplied.  _ Also called The Bone Doctor _ . 

Ilsa slowly made her way over towards her, apparently, unwelcome companion, hands in her pockets, looking as comfortable and at home as could be. She lifted a skeptical eyebrow as she took in his toys. ”Du, vårt uppdrag var att bryta ner honom. Inte döda honom.”

Vinter shrugged and turned to Ethan, coming to a halt before him, mustering him. Ethan saw equal parts curiosity and resentment in his eyes. ”Vissa killar knäcker man långsammare än andra.”

He underlined his statement with a powerful punch to Ethan’s stomach, making him gasp for air. 

Beside him, his team protested loudly and angrily, throwing colorful insults at Vinter’s head. He just grinned and hit Ethan again, even harder this time. “Nu ska vi se, min vän, hur tuff du är,” he said. Out of the corner of his eyes, and while desperately trying to regain his breath, Ethan saw Ilsa move subtly closer to the table again. Her hand grasped something, but he couldn’t tell what it was before another punch landed against his cheekbone, making him see stars. 

Walking towards the middle of the room, still relaxed and unassuming, Ilsa quirked an eyebrow at him, and he glanced down at her hand. A small key was cupped in the palm of her hand, hidden from the other men in the room. He gave her a subtle nod. 

“Du, Janik…” she said, and Vinter turned around to see what she wanted. Ethan took his chance. Kicking upwards, his feet hit the Bone Doctor square in the chest, making him lose his balance and fly backward. He landed on the ground with a hard thud, his head hitting one of the pipes with a dull clang. He remained still, unconscious. 

In the same move, Ilsa threw the keys to him, her aim true, making it easy for his tied hands to catch the tiny object.

For just a second, stunned silence settled over the room, before the other goons broke into motion, going right for Ilsa. Ethan at once tried to unlock his cuffs but realized with an onset of panic that he couldn’t reach the lock at the angle his hands were held. 

He watched as Ilsa backed away from the first goon that tried to reach for her, and grasped one of Vinter’s toys - a hammer. Once again, her aim was true, and with a powerful throw, it landed right in the guy’s face, knocking him out cold. 

Knowing she had things well in hand for the moment, Ethan gave up on trying to unlock his cuffs and settled on an alternative escape option. This was going to be hell on his shoulders, he thought, and with several quick, powerful kicks upwards, he managed to scale the pole until he could grasp the top and pull his hands over it. He landed with a thud and used the momentum of his swing to tackle the guy currently having a hold of Ilsa’s hair and kicking her in the sides. 

As soon as she was free again, they made short work of all the men, as well as his cuffs, moving in synch, as if they’d never done anything else in their lives. Moments later, all their opponents were either dead or unconscious and Ilsa and Ethan turned to each other. For just a moment, Ethan allowed himself to be selfish and pulled her into his arms, holding her close. He ignored his friends’ surprised mutters and concentrated on the feeling of having her in his arms again. He had missed her so much, and his heart jumped with joy when he felt her arms encircle his waist, resting her head on his shoulder. They remained like that for a handful of seconds, before they broke apart again.

They exchanged a look, communicating everything they needed to at this moment. They weren’t in the clear yet.

Turning to Ethan’s team, they ignored their confused questions for the time being and focused on freeing them from their restraints. Once that was done, Ilsa grabbed her shoes and a bundle of clothes off the table and moved towards the back of the room, just as someone started to bang on the other side of the door, yelling for them to unlock it. 

Ilsa ignored it and ordered them to “Follow me!” 

Moving down a narrow corridor at a hurried jog, they passed a rusty old gate, which they closed behind them, making sure they couldn’t be followed this way. Several turns later, they emerged onto a dark London street, horns and other city noises sounding in the distance. 

“We need to get off the streets, quickly,” Ilsa said, and handed Ethan his coat. He was thankful to be able to cover up against the chill of the night air and gave her a grateful smile. Her eyes softened as she watched him put his coat on. 

Ethan could tell his friends were bursting with questions, but they remained quiet as they started walking, concentrating on getting to a safe place first. Getting answers was secondary right now.

Thankfully, Ethan had another safe-house in the city that nobody knew about, and they headed there, making sure nobody followed them. Forty-five minutes later, they set foot in an outwardly run-down and deserted bakery, but which had in fact been converted into a comfortable little two-room apartment. 

As soon as the door clicked shut behind them and all the locks and security measures were in place, they settled down in the small living room, exhausted. Brandt, Luther, and Benji looked at the other two expectantly. 

Luther gave her a once-over, suspicious, yet hopeful. “Ilsa, right?”

Ilsa, in turn, gave Ethan a look, to which he just offered a sheepish shrug. Turning back towards Luther, she nodded once.

“Well, then,” he said. “We have so much to talk about.”

Inwardly, Ethan groaned. He was not looking forward to this conversation, and he wasn’t even in the hot seat.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoyed this. Let me know what you thought? :)
> 
> One more chapter to go.


	3. Chapter 3

“You broke into our safe-house before your very rude companion shot us,” Benji accused and yet again, Ilsa simply nodded. 

“Yes.”

“So you wanted to capture us.”

This time, she shook her head. “I came to warn you. But Vinter has never trusted me, or anyone, really, so he must have followed me. To make sure I followed through on Lane’s orders, probably.”

“Which were?” Brandt asked. 

Ilsa glanced at Ethan. “To deliver him to Lane. Ethan’s been quite the nuisance to the Syndicate for the past few months,” she said drily. 

“Yeah, he’s pretty good at that,” Brandt admitted with a teasing smirk. 

“Never mind that,” Luther interrupted. “If I understand this right, you had the order to bring Ethan to Lane, but you were going to go against that order and warn him instead?”

“Yes.”

Luther mustered her for a moment, before eventually asking the question he thought most important. “Why?”

Once more, Ilsa cast a glance in Ethan’s direction. If he didn’t know any better, he would say she looked a little nervous. “I didn’t want to see him killed.”

“Why?” Luther insisted. “Because you were sleeping with him?”

Ilsa’s eyebrows furrowed at the insinuation. “Because I  _ care _ about him,” she almost growled. 

Finally, slowly, Luther allowed his stern face to melt into a small smile. “Good.”

“What will you do now?” Benji suddenly asked, eyes curious. 

Ilsa shrugged. “Go as far underground as I possibly can. If Lane ever finds me, after the stunt I just pulled with you, he’d have me killed on the spot.” A humorless smile appeared on her lips. “He’s not the kind of man to get his own hands dirty, so he’d send someone to kill me.” Almost as an afterthought, she muttered, “Always disliked that about him the most.”

Slowly, cautiously, as if handling a dangerous animal, Ethan moved to sit down beside her, and gently put his hand on her knee. He waited until her eyes settled on his face, locking their gazes before he smiled softly at her. “I’ve told you before, Ilsa, I’m here to help you. That hasn’t changed. Let me,” he paused and looked at his friends, who smiled at him, “let  _ us _ help you. Let us take care of Lane, make sure he doesn’t pose a threat to anyone anymore.” He swallowed and whispered, “please.” He cleared his throat and added with a small grin, “Better yet, help  _ us _ take him down.”

Ilsa’s heart skipped a beat at the softness in his tone and the pleading in his eyes. Inwardly, she cursed herself. This was why she had frozen all contact with him these past few weeks. She had let him get too close. 

But what did it matter now? 

She sighed and bit her lip, thinking. 

Lane was after Ethan, and now his team, anyway, and she knew Ethan wouldn’t stop until he had taken him down. She could just as well help him do it. 

“All right,” she said and was almost blinded by the relieved smile that spread across his handsome face. 

She really had missed him, she thought, and gave him an answering, albeit smaller, smile. 

“Good,” he said, still smiling. “Then let’s get cracking on a plan!”

 

*

 

It was late, or very early, when the team finally decided to call it a night and get some rest. 

Luther, Benj, and Brandt claimed the couch and cushioned chairs as their sleeping quarters, shooing Ethan and Ilsa off towards the single bedroom. 

“Just try to keep it down, yeah?” Benji teased, waving at them cheekily, and both Ilsa and Ethan rolled their eyes in answer, before muttering a good night and heading towards the bedroom.

Once the door had closed behind them, they simply stood there in slightly awkward silence, not daring to look at each other, until Ilsa was overcome with a very uncharacteristic bout of giggles.

Ethan looked at her in pleasant surprise, a slight grin tugging at his lips. “What?” he asked. 

Ilsa took a deep breath, trying to keep another giggle from escaping her throat. “Nothing, nothing,” she said, waving her hand slightly, to signal that it really wasn’t important. When he still looked at her expectantly, she sighed and gave him a playful smirk. “It’s just….look at us, being bashful about being in the same room together, alone, after everything else we’ve already done in a room much like this one. Only that this one is much less seedy, thankfully.”

Ethan huffed a laugh and rubbed at his neck. “Thank goodness we’re reasonable adults, right?”

Ilsa snorted. “Right,” she agreed with a dry grin. A moment later, however, she sobered up and turned to fully face Ethan.

Catching on to her change of mood, he gently led her towards the bed, silently asking her to take a seat. After they had both settled down, he waited for her to share what was on her mind.

She took a deep breath, steeling herself, and then met his gaze head-on. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.”

His brow furrowed in confusion. “For what?”

“For running from you, for shutting you out of my life like that. It was a mistake, I see that now. At the time, however, it seemed like a good idea.” She gave a humorless little laugh, so unlike her giggle from a minute ago. “That decision was purely based on self-preservation. I let you get too close, and I was scared. So I ran.” Her blue eyes bore into his, and she swallowed, hard. “I’m so sorry,” she apologized again. “I never...I never meant to hurt you.”

Ethan grasped her hand gently, giving her fingers a warm squeeze, before tangling their fingers together. He stared at her delicate hands for a moment, taking note of her bone structure and remembering a time when they had nimbly undone his shirt buttons, urgent to rid him of his clothes. He shook the mental images of the past away and let his eyes focus on her face in the present. 

“I can’t deny that it hurt,” he admitted softly, “but what was worse than the pain, was the constant worry. Worry that they had found out about us and that they had killed you in retaliation. Or that they were holding you somewhere in a dark hole, torturing you. Sometimes I could hear your screams of pain in the middle of the night, keeping me awake. Other times, I dreamt of your lifeless body, with Lane standing over it, smirking.” Ethan took a shuddering breath, and almost sobbed as her free hand cupped his cheek gently, cool fingers stroking along his hairline and across his temple. 

“Ethan…,” she whispered, lost for words. She swallowed hard and scooted closer to him, letting her fingers drift into his hair, tugging him closer. He went willingly, sighing in relief as their lips met in a soft kiss. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry,” she kept whispering, like a mantra, in between kisses. 

“It’s okay,” he murmured, pressing his forehead against hers, eyes closed as if he was afraid she’d vanish if he opened them. “Stay,” he pleaded.

“Yes,” she promised. 

After that, their kisses became more urgent, deeper, their longing for each other seeming to amplify all of their senses. 

His fingertips read the goosebumps on her skin like braille.

Her hands felt the soft slide of his hair through her fingers right down to her toes. 

His ears caught every single little change in her breathing, committing it to memory.

Her own ears enjoyed the almost-silent gasps she wrung from his throat, with a brush of her lips, or a caress of her hands.

His tongue and mouth drank deeply from her, her essence exploding on his taste buds and making every single meal he had ever had before seem dull in comparison.

Her lips sipped at his throat, catching every single drop of his sweat she could find, like a woman dying of thirst.

Their bodies danced together, creating a spark that quickly evolved into a raging fire, unstoppable and burning hot and strong. 

Their gasping breaths echoed in the darkness, the occasional rustling of sheets the only other sound in the otherwise silent room.

“Ethan…” Ilsa gasped, his name nothing more than a breath being ripped from her throat. 

Ethan redoubled his efforts, knowing she was close. Ilsa moaned in delight, her fingers gripping his shoulders even more tightly than before, hanging on to him.

A moment later, she came with a shuddering gasp, her mouth falling open in pleasure. 

Ethan watched her in rapture, knowing he’d never get enough of seeing her like this, being with her like this. A gentle flutter of her muscles, accompanied by the heated look in her now-open eyes, made him finally reach his peak too. 

After, they held each other close, as they had done only once before. Only this time, Ethan felt no dread of an impending goodbye - only peace.

 

*

 

“Where is she!” Lane rasped heatedly, his nostrils flaring angrily, as he stared at Vinter.

The younger man tried not to flinch. “We don’t know, sir. She vanished with the others. We assume they are still within the city but have no way of tracking their location.”

A loud crash, as Lane threw his empty dinner plate off the table in a fit of rage, sounded in the hotel suite, different, a little smaller than the last one he’d stayed in. Slowly pressing his hands flat against the table, Lane hunched over slightly and took several deep breaths.

Vinter knew he hated when his emotions got the best of him, which rarely happened, so he waited silently until Lane had regained control of himself again. 

“Find her,” he whispered, his voice as loud as if he had yelled. “Once you find her, you’ll find Hunt as well, I’m quite certain.”

“Must’ve left quite the...impression on her, if he could manage to make her turn like that,” Vinter said, almost conversationally.

“Yes,” Lane agreed softly. “He’s very good at leaving impressions, isn’t he.” He gave Vinter a look, clearly impatient. “Now find them.”

Vinter nodded and a moment later, he was gone, leaving Lane alone with his thoughts, staring out of the window at the glittering London skyline.

 

*

 

Vinter did find them, at a stylish little restaurant facing the Thames, right out in the open, like unassuming deer, waiting to be hunted.

Only later, when it was already too late for him to do anything about it, did he realize that he had stepped right into their trap. 

Feeling the barrel of a gun press against the small of his back, right into his kidney, he rolled his eyes at his own stupidity.

“Take a seat, if you please,” a deep voice behind him rumbled, prodding his back with the gun to make him move towards the table, already occupied by Faust and Hunt. 

For all the world, they looked like they were on a date, and Vinter sneered at them, disgusted. 

“How nice of you to join us, Vinter,” Hunt said, making his sneer deepen further, even as he sat down at the table. 

“Fuck you, Hunt.”

“No, thank you, but nice of you to offer.”

Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Ilsa bite her lip to smother a smile. He wanted nothing more than to punch that smile right off her pretty little face.

The guy who had pressed the gun into his back stepped out from behind him and casually took a seat opposite him. Vinter was under no impression that his back was now unguarded. Hunt’s remaining team members were most likely watching everything closely. He mustered the guy opposite him shortly, Luther was his name, if he remembered correctly, before turning his attention towards his former associate.

“Is he paying you to help him, or is he just that good in the sack?”

Ilsa just gave him one of her mysterious little smiles, the one that had always annoyed him the most. “Wouldn’t you like to know,” she hummed. 

His fist clenched in anger, wishing once again that he could wipe that smile off her face. How he loathed her. He loathed her for always being Lane’s favorite, for always making everything she did look so effortless. For having earned Lane’s respect seemingly so easily. 

“Now, let’s talk about how you can help us catch Lane, shall we?” Hunt said as if he was talking about the weather. 

“Are you braindead? As if I would ever help y-” once again he was taken by surprise, as he felt the sting of a needle entering the flesh of his thigh. For the second time in as many minutes, he cursed his own inattention, as he watched Ilsa smoothly remove the syringe again, hiding it under the table once more. 

She gave him another one of her smiles, but all he saw was pity. “You’ll be surprised what good old fashioned truth-serum can accomplish,” she said.

He gulped and started sweating, knowing he was in trouble.

 

*

 

In the end, finding Lane’s hideout, thanks to Vinter and the truth-serum, was far easier than they had thought. 

They had stashed Vinter in a safe location, gagged, bound, and unconscious, and then stormed the castle, as it were. They had efficiently eliminated Lane’s goons, one after the other, falling to well-placed bullets, until they had finally reached their target. 

Lane stood tall, glaring at them from his perch behind the desk, yet still managing to look impressed.

“Congratulations, Ethan. It seems like you have outsmarted me, after all.”

Ethan gave him a hard stare. “Only took me almost a year,” he admitted, paying his respect where it was due. Lane had been quite the accomplished opponent in this game of chess they had been playing, after all.

Lane inclined his head in a half-nod. “Well done, indeed.” His cold gaze wandered towards Ilsa. “I have to admit, I am disappointed, but not surprised. You had so much potential, yet I always felt the slightest hint of doubt in you. You never really believed in the cause, did you.”

“No,” Ilsa said, “I didn’t.” In one graceful motion, she raised her gun and fired. 

The bullet burrowed itself into his shoulder and Lane went down with a groan of pain. He guessed that in her mind, he deserved this. He just abhorred her show of mercy. 

He’d have much preferred if she had put the bullet in his brain instead.

 

*

 

Ethan sighed deeply as the door to the meeting room closed behind him, feeling a weight lift off his shoulders. His eyes searched for a certain someone and found a small group huddled together at the far end of the corridor he stood in. He smiled as he took in his friends, and made his way over to join them.

At the sound of his footsteps, they all looked up at him, turning to face him expectantly.

“So?” Benji asked, bouncing on his feet nervously. “What did Hunley say?”

“Well, he wasn’t too pleased that we went rogue like that, but he was more than pleased with the end result of our actions. Lane has been handed over to the CIA for now, but he’ll most likely change hands soon. More than enough organizations want to have a word with him,” he explained, before turning his attention fully towards the only woman in their little group. “Regarding your status as a rogue agent, Hunley promised to have a word with MI6 on your behalf. There’ll be an inquiry into your actions, but he’s sure that as long as you cooperate fully, you’ll be shown leniency. Hunley knows that he’d make a good catch with you if he could get you cleared and onboard the IMF.”

Ilsa smiled, relieved, and nodded, “I’ll help where I can.”

“I know you will,” Ethan said gently, smiling proudly at her. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see the others grinning broadly. “For now, however, you’re free to go, as long as you stay in the city, where we can reach you easily.”

Again, Ilsa nodded. “I’ll go find myself a hotel room, then.”

“As if,” Benji coughed, not at all subtly. 

Luther and Brandt cackled softly, and nudged Benji’s shoulders, trying to get him moving. 

“It’ll be great to have you on the team, Ilsa,” Luther said, already on the move further up the corridor, dragging Benji with him.

Brandt smirked and nodded, “It’ll be interesting for sure! See you around, Faust.”

“But guys, we were gonna get drinks,” Benji protested, as he was being pulled away from the other two, his protests silenced by impatient mutterings from Brandt and Luther. 

Ethan and Ilsa watched their friends grow smaller in the distance, their voices getting quieter until they were turning a corner and vanished from view. 

Only then did they turn to face each other again, a relieved grin on both of their faces.

“So...about that hotel room,” Ilsa began, stepping closer to Ethan and lifting her hands allow her fingers to fiddle with the buttons on his shirt idly.

“Yeah, there’s no need for that. I’ve got more than enough room at my place,” Ethan told her, slightly distracted by her hands. 

“Good. How about you show me your place, then?” Ilsa whispered, stepping closer still until her hips brushed against his. 

“Absolutely,” Ethan nodded, leaning down slightly and further into her space. “With pleasure.”

Ilsa giggled as his lips captured hers, with a promise for more to come in the future.

 

~fin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!   
> And to the handful of you who left a comment - thank you so much, it really means the world to me, and us writers in general. It's basically the only form of 'payment' we get, for spending hours or days on these little stories. So we're always happy to hear what the readers think about our work :)


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